Disclaimer: I do not own Games of Thrones. I only own my OC.

A/N: Straight out, I was tipsy when I finished writing this chapter so I do apologize. I could've waited to release this chapter but I decided fuck it. Ah, with that being said, do enjoy. There is mention of my House of the Dragon OC Tatiana Tyrell in this chapter. So that was fun to include. If you want to know more about her visit my Tumblr.

dreaming-for-an-escape

Something to look forward to for the next chapter, Maeve spends time with all her siblings. And there might be a Robb scene ;)

But no promises.

Also as you can tell in this chapter Maeve loves lemon cakes and honeyed wine. Also who wouldn't eat/drink when being told you're about to marry a complete stranger. Seems like an appropriate response.

I'll go back later and fix any errors I can find.


"Be comforted, dear soul! There is always light behind the clouds." ― Louisa May Alcott, Little Women


Chapter 3: Her Intended

Margaery was no longer by Maeve's side when arriving at her grandmother's chambers. Her older sister did indeed fix her hair, gently twisting pieces of it to give her a more stylish braid than the simple braid she had before. No longer looking disarrayed, with her bow and arrows left in her own chambers, Maeve received an approving nod from her grandmother when greeting her.

"Hello grandmother." Maeve kissed her on the cheek before taking a seat next to her.

They were gathered on the balcony attached to her grandmother's chambers. The table in front laid out various foods, including Maeve's favorite dessert. The sixteen year old nearly jumped from joy when she saw the lemon cakes upon making her way onto the balcony. The delicious tangy dessert was by no means a rarity in Highgarden. Maeve had them often, and no matter how often she ate them her enjoyment never ceased.

Although the lemon cakes looked appetizing, the youngest Tyrell sibling resisted the urge to merrily dump the tray of them onto her plate. Instead Maeve poured herself a cup of whatever the pitcher on the table contained. She thought it was either wine or some kind of sweet water, perhaps with rose and lavender.

After taking a sip she tasted that it was wine, honeyed wine. Another favorite of Maeve's. She loved honeyed wine, however unlike with lemon cakes she tended to have less of it, wanting to save the taste of the wine for certain special occasions. Like last month for her nameday she didn't have any trouble indulging in honeyed wine and lemon cakes.

Maeve began to wonder what the occasion was that had her grandmother presenting her with her favorite dessert and drink. Was it because of this so-called important news Margaery mentioned? Or was this just her grandmother being kind? The latter wasn't unusual but it briefly befuddled Maeve. Her gaze landed on the lemon cakes again, and this time she grabbed one. The brunette took a bite and smiled as she chewed.

Whatever the reason, I find myself glad because this lemon cake is scrumptious. And to wash it down with honeyed wine? What a good day it has been.

"Did you have a grand time on your outings with Garlan, dear?" Olenna asked her youngest granddaughter after taking a sip from her own cup of wine.

Maeve nodded her head, the lemon cake already halfway done. She didn't answer until she finished eating what she had in her mouth. "Yes. As always, the weather proved to be quite excellent for riding."

Olenna's lips quirked. "And of course you beat him."

"We weren't competing, grandmother." Maeve answered with her demeanor being self-effacing.

Olenna didn't fail to notice the way her lips upturned briefly much like hers had. "So modest when you shouldn't be." She sighed, shaking her head. "You've always been that way."

Maeve let out a sigh of her own before taking another sip from her cup. It would've been pointless to give a witty retort about her bashfulness. Her grandmother's response would've been twice as sharp and by now she was aware just how sharp her grandmother's tongue was.

Throughout her sixteen years of life Maeve witnessed her small-boned grandmother demolish plenty of men and women. Men who were twice her size and women who'd Maeve would never want to be stuck conversing with. Her grandmother was able to easily handle them and it had always been amusing because she'd been the spectator.

Maeve wanted it to remain that way.

The sixteen year old's merry mood was present as she took another sip from the cup. Maeve liked the mixing of the honeyed wine and lemon cake. It left a pleasant aftertaste in her mouth that had her humming quietly.

"I remember you as a baby." Olenna suddenly said, capturing Maeve's attention as she set down her cup. Her quiet humming came to a stop. She now stared at her grandmother, intrigued.

Olenna's eyes were distant, as if she were looking into the past. "How small you were. Precisely the same size as one of your sister's dolls. And now look at you." Her expression became earnest. Her eyes were now bright as they stared at her. "You've grown up."

Maeve didn't know why her grandmother was saying that but she sure was touched. It sounded like she was complimenting her. She didn't want to get a fat head though because of presumptions. "And yet I am the shortest of my siblings." She lightheartedly replied. "As they like to remind me every so often. Loras even refers to me as a doll at times."

Olenna let out a laugh that sounded more like she was clearing her throat at the mention of her ostentatious grandson. "Ah yes. Loras still does see you as that little girl. The one who was fragile, and doll-like and needed to be closely watched." Her voice turned serious. "But you aren't so fragile, not anymore."

There was a sudden change in the air that Maeve couldn't ignore. She hastily reached for another lemon cake, having a feeling she would need to eat another one soon. "Grandmother, what is it you needed to tell me? Margaery mentioned to me that it was important news."

Olenna nodded her head. "Indeed it is important news. Riveting news, actually."

Riveting? Maeve gulped, wanting but also tense to know more. "And I'll get to know what this riveting news is?"

Olenna blinked. "You're of age now." She bluntly stated.

Maeve tried her best to hide her startled reaction but there was no withholding the way her breath hitched. The conversation was now heading toward territory she did not think she was ready for yet. She wanted to run back to the stables, hop on Starlight, and take off into nature.

That didn't happen. Maeve remained in her seat, anxiously taking a bite of lemon cake.

Despite her personal fears, her grandmother wasn't wrong in saying she was of age. Maeve had turned sixteen a little over a month ago. It's also been a year since she flowered, beginning her monthly bleeds. A late flower she was, according to her mother. Unlike Margaery, who flowered at twelve.

Once flowered Maeve knew she was finally thought to be a woman. Although there were moments where she didn't feel like she was. There were also moments where Maeve just didn't want to be a woman because being a woman meant a bunch of new responsibilities. It also meant she now had to be ready to do womanly things. Womanly things she was nervous of doing with whoever she would take as husband.

As a Tyrell, and a lady, such things were to be eventually expected by her. She grew up with this information, storing it in the back of her head. She was the second daughter, so the main focus was on Margaery, not her. Regardless of being in the background, Maeve wouldn't get to marry out of pleasure but rather duty.

Maeve thought perhaps she'd be given more time, eased into whoever she'd marry, but instead the news was thrown at her as she skittishly munched on a delicious lemon cake.

Any refusal from her wouldn't be allowed. Maeve had her family to think about, and it was her duty. She had to follow through.

No matter how timorous she was.

As much as Maeve wanted to keep it hidden, her anxiousness was easy to read. Her grandmother continued to easily discuss the topic of marriage to her as if she were talking about the weather.

"I've spoken with your parents about this and they've agreed. It is time for you to marry."

Maeve's grip on her cup trembled a bit when bringing to her lips. She thought it was a miracle there hadn't been any spillage. She basically chugged down the rest of her honeyed wine, washing down the rest of her lemon cake as well.

"More wine, dear?" Olenna asked, passing her the pitcher.

Was she mishearing things or did her grandmother sound amused? Maeve quickly got it together to pour more honeyed wine into her cup. She would be needing lots more now after what she was just told.

Maeve found her voice to inquire crucial information. She sounded more put together than she felt. Perhaps the honeyed wine was kicking in already. "And who is my intended?"

"Robb Stark." Olenna divulged to her granddaughter, delivering her an unwavering stare. "He's a year older than you."

The name echoed in Maeve's mind several times. She even whispered her betrothed's name, her cheeks flushing. She blamed the honeyed wine for her flushed cheeks. The brunette tried her best to not rub her nose out of nervousness. A habit she had since childhood. "I have no knowledge of him."

Maeve knew of House Stark. Just as she knew the other Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms. The sixteen year old was proud of herself with the amount of knowledge she was able to hoard about all of them. And apart from his name and age she knew nothing else characteristically about Robb Stark.

Now was she curious about his appearance? Yes, to an extent. She was more curious about who he was as a person. He could've been the most handsome man in all the Seven Kingdoms but also the cruelest.

Gods….what if he did have a mercurial temper?

It wasn't even cold and yet Maeve felt chills. The hairs in the back of her neck stood up at the thought. She would've felt colder, if the self-doubt that resided in her hadn't started to worsen because of her nervousness. She began to think this Robb Stark fellow was probably overcome with joy as much as her. He too would be marrying a complete stranger.

"He couldn't possibly be happy about being betrothed to me." Maeve whispered, thinking her grandmother wouldn't hear her. She should have known better to underestimate her grandmother's hearing even at her old age.

Olenna rolled her eyes. "Your self-depreciation is very tiring, youngest granddaughter. Do start seeing yourself in a better light, it really shouldn't be that difficult." Her voice became soft but remained earnest. "You're a rose from Highgarden, and roses have thorns. It's time you start thinking of yourself as one."

If only it were that easy.

From a young age Maeve struggled to think she was a rose like her grandmother and mother wanted her to be. Unlike Margaery who was able to do so.

Maeve may not walk as gracefully as Margaery or was alluring, but she knew her manners and at least she no longer awkwardly walked as a baby born duck anymore. She tried keeping things interesting in her own way. And because of that the two sisters stood out from each other in more ways than one. Ever since she could remember, Maeve lacked the confidence her older sister Margery seemed to have naturally possessed.

Maeve also thought she was too plain looking, especially when next to Margaery. A fact in life that although at times made her feel small and almost unseen, there was never any ill thought toward her older sister.

It was just the way things were. She had years to grow accustomed. Between them it was Margaery who was the beautiful sister, and her the ordinary one. Margaery would also marry for duty, but her marriage would be more preeminent than Maeve's. That's why her older sister hadn't married yet, the right choice hadn't presented itself.

But apparently the right choice had presented itself for Maeve. Not that it brought her immediate joy. "Soon I'll be a rose far away in the cold." The brunette muttered, dispirited. Her grandmother reaching for her hand took her by surprise.

"Yes but a rose still. That won't ever change, no matter where you are." Olenna gave her hand a few pats before letting go.

Maeve's heart ached. If the marriage went through with Robb Stark then Maeve would have to leave Highgarden to live in Winterfell. Far from where she grew up, her home. She had never been to Winterfell. She had never really been anywhere. Much like Willas, Maeve remained most of her life in Highgarden. She never had reason to leave…..until now.

Maeve had read about Winterfell. The books she owned about the North mentioned the coldness of the land being frequent. Reading about a place though and actually having been there was completely different. Maeve thought the passages in her books about Winterfell were fascinating, and a part of her wanted to see the snow. But now that it was a possibility her keenness stilled.

Maeve traced the top of her cup with her finger. "Did father arrange this betrothal?" Was her father the mastermind or was it her grandmother? Her tracing stopped to take another drink from her cup. The honeyed wine struck. On second thought it was probably her grandmother. Hearing her loud humorless laugh confirmed this.

"That giant oaf had the idea of marrying you to the eldest son of Doran Martell. Quentyn, I believe is his name." Olenna shook her head, appearing apallad. "As if I would let that happen. The last time a Tyrell was in Dorne their life ended with scorpions."

The honeyed wine definitely gave Maeve the courage to answer somewhat sternly. "Grandmother that happened many years ago. I didn't exist then, nor did you."

Olenna simply raised her eyebrows. "So because neither of us existed we shouldn't take notice? I think not."

Maeve frowned at the lack of trust between the houses. Aside from what occurred to her ancestor Lyonel Tyrell, things between the Tyrells and Martells weren't at their best because of what happened with Willas and Oberyn.

She forgave just as Willas had but their grandmother wasn't as quick to forget the incident. It's why Willas wasn't allowed to visit Oberyn at Dorne, no matter how many times the Dorne Prince invited her older brother. If there would be a meet up between them it had to be at Highgarden.

"Forgiveness is one thing but handing over a granddaughter for marriage is another." Olenna grumbled as the very same granddaughter reached for another lemon cake.

Maeve silently continued eating her lemon cake, trying to gather everything in her mind when it came to Quentyn Martell. Even though Maeve didn't have much on him, she was able to remember that she did indeed meet Quentyn once. All those years ago when he was alongside his Uncle Oberyn at Highgarden for the tourney that unfortunately resulted in Willas injuring his leg.

Before that happened Maeve properly introduced herself to Quentyn. The boy, who was ten at the time, two years older than her, barely maintained eye contact around her presence. He didn't stay long, solemnly saying his own pleasantries before scurrying off.

Loras, who'd been with Maeve during the spectacle rolled his eyes, grumpily saying how rude the Prince of Dorne's son had been. Maeve didn't agree with her older brother. She thought the Martell boy was more shy than rude. But that'd been years ago and Maeve hadn't seen Quentyn since then. The now sixteen year old doubted he even remembered her. Not that it really mattered if he did. According to her grandmother it wasn't him who she was going to marry.

Maeve licked her lips after she finished eating. The taste of the lemon crumbs sadly didn't do much to soothe her worries. "Robb Stark it is then." Her voice was neutral but she was far from feeling that way on the inside.

Her lack of enthusiasm was palpable. Olenna expected this.

"I know it feels daunting right now. I myself felt that way when I was engaged. Well, somewhat. I actually didn't marry my first intended." Maeve's green eyes widening was noticed by her. "I was to marry some Targaryen who's name I've forgotten. That's how inconsequential he was."

Olenna almost rolled her eyes again at the image of her ex-intended. Silver eyes and lilac eyes never did it for her. For how much of an oaf Luthor was during their marriage she never regretted going after him. She made the right choice. "Who could ever find satisfaction with a Targaryen."

Maeve immediately thought of someone from her bloodline. "There's my ancestor Tatiana." She shyly mentioned. Tatiana Tyrell. Maeve enjoyed doing research on past family members. Tatiana in particular interested her the most because of the stories that followed her. How she was the lover of both Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen.

It had never actually been proven if she was involved with them but the romance was never entirely dismissed either. That's what made her so fascinating. Relationships were already complicated enough with two people. But with three people? Impossible. At least that's what she thought at first. From what Maeve gathered about Tatiana, Rhaenyra, and Daemon it was possible. Well, if what was written about them was true.

"Ah, that's right. Tatiana Tyrell who supposedly captured not one but two Targaryen hearts. Who was given a crown by Rhaenyra herself." Olenna scoffed. "Rumors or not she did not end up with them. And whatever they had ended with blood and tears."

Maeve didn't like to think so but throughout the rumors there were facts, and the facts were that Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen died while Tatiana Tyrell had to continue living without them. There was no permanent happily ever after for the three of them. She cleared her throat, deciding to redirect the conversation.

"So my Grandfather Luthor wasn't who you were originally supposed to marry?"

Olenna's face softened. "No, my sister Viola, your great aunt, was supposed to marry him. But one evening I showed Luthor that I was the better option." She hummed, a twinkle in her eyes. "It really was for the best. Not long afterwards, Viola met some other high born lord, fell in love rather quickly and married. Before the wedding I've never seen my sister look so happy. She never looked that way when next to Luthor. It's interesting how some things turn out."

That was quite the story. Who knew that her grandmother taking her sister's intended would be for the better. It wasn't like Maeve could be bothered since there was a positive outcome. Whenever her Great Aunt Viola visited them with her husband she looked over the moon. They seemed unstoppable even at their old age. Did love really have that much power?

The wheel in Maeve's mind started to spin but the honeyed wine mixed with her nerves was stopping it from going full speed. "What is it you're saying? That I should do the same as you?" Maeve didn't think she could do that. Look for someone else. She lacked the sexual prowess her older sister Margaery had, and that apparently her grandmother also had during her youth.

Olenna shook her head, laughing lightly. "Gods no. There's no need because unlike my twitchy intended, yours is better. At least according to what Lord Stark has told me through the letters we've exchanged."

Maeve once again blamed the flush on her cheeks on the honeyed wine. "What have you learned from these letters?"

"That the son takes after the father. Ned Stark is as honorable as they come." Olenna reassured her. "Well, if you exclude the bastard he has."

Her grandmother said the last part so nonchalantly, as if she had no need to read much into it. So Maeve wouldn't, couldn't, pass judgement. She just collected the information to remember for later. The sixteen year old grew quiet for way too long and her grandmother thought it to mean something.

"Your silence is practically screaming at me dear. Do you trust me?" Olenna asked with a serious tone.

Maeve answered rapidly, with no hesitation. "You're my grandmother. How can I not?"

The somberness on Olenna's face disappeared. She smiled at her granddaughter. "Then do wipe the frown from your face." She reached over to caress her cheek. "I can assure you everything will be alright."

Maeve replaced the frown with a passable smile. She had to believe everything would be alright because if she didn't she would have broken down. The shield of tranquility was kept up only for her grandmother. She nibbled on some lemon cake and drank what was left of her honeyed wine before excusing herself.

It wasn't until Maeve got up to leave that she let her expression fall outside her grandmother's chambers. She wanted the comfort Starlight would give her but going back to the stables meant the possibility of running into one of her siblings. The news of her being betrothed would soon reach their ears, or perhaps they already knew on behalf of Margaery. Whether they knew or not, Maeve wanted to be alone.

So Maeve ensconced herself in her chambers, eager to push aside the conversation she had with her grandmother. Reading brought her comfort as much as horse riding, so she would escape into the words in her books.

Her cherished books, though not a permanent solution to Maeve's predicament, would have to do. It was either reading or crying and Maeve decided to save her crying for the night.

On the inside she was a mess of emotions at the reveal of her betrothal to Robb Stark. The son of a Northerner who she was told was as honorable as his father. Maeve had yet to determine that herself. Perhaps crying would tire Maeve enough from her worries to get some sleep.